“No, you’re not.” He rocked back on his heels. “I won’t let you.”
She laughed derisively. “As if you can stop me.”
“I’ve taken matters into my own competent hands.” He offered a smile forged of steel. “I’m serious.”
The wind caught her grey-streaked hair, throwing the locks skyward. She resembled a porcupine cornered in a homeowner’s garage.
“Vasily, what have you done?”
“American Airlines flight 1873 to Cincinnati,” he rapped out. “Three tickets.”
When her jaw loosened at the audacity of his plan, he allowed himself a silent cheer of victory. Bravo, me.
“Three tickets?” Millicent sputtered. “You bought three tickets? We’re all going?”
“We must arrive at O’Hare tomorrow by six a.m. Dragging a wheelchair and its foul-tempered occupant through security won’t be the highlight of my day. I’ll manage.”
When she began to object, he sent her a thunderous glance. Amazingly, she clamped her mouth shut. The closest he’d ever get to witnessing Millicent surrender on any field of battle.
He didn’t waste the moment, saying, “I suggest you throw clothes into a suitcase for yourself and the dour specter who’s now only taking meals in the master suite. A master suite, I might add, you haven’t visited in days. There’s no glory in sleeping on the living room couch like an errant spouse. Where’s your pride?”
She snorted. “Gone and buried in Sweet Lake.”
“We’ll resurrect it from an undeserving grave.”
“And how will we manage that fine miracle?”
Sloshing past her on the muddy ground, Vasily took possession of the wheelbarrow. The wind kicked up, a chilling blast. It carried off the small, weak query she’d tossed out.
But not before he detected the undertone in her voice, the glimmering current swimming beneath her words.
Hope. The rare, raw material from which Millicent was created.
Wheeling forward, he paused by the mudroom door. “Are you coming, or not?” he asked.
Chapter 19
The lively chatter of sixty-plus women resounded through the ballroom. On the dais, Linnie sat amidst a circle of unopened presents. Frances and Silvia were on either side of the happy bride-to-be, handing her gifts and dispensing with mounds of crumpled wrapping paper.
Below the dais, Fancy skipped down the row of tables brimming with treats. Jada watched with mild amusement as the child filled her plate with grapes, petits fours, cucumber sandwiches, and a variety of cheeses. Nearing the middle of the fabulous spread, Fancy reached for the tray of barbecued drumsticks. She stopped abruptly to frown at her groaning plate.
Jada approached. “You’re allowed to come back for seconds, kiddo.”
The suggestion seemed unwelcome. “Can I put something back?” Fancy licked her lips.
“Once you pick something, it stays on your plate.”
“What a dumb rule.”
“Big girls don’t put food back. It’s not polite.”
Fancy surveyed the roomful of women, her pretty frock rustling softly around her knees. “What if they eat everything before I have seconds?”
“Are you kidding? With this much food, everyone will take leftovers home tonight—you included.” Relenting, Jada reached for a second plate. Barbecue was at the top of Fancy’s most-loved foods. “How many drumsticks would you like?”
“Four, please.”
Jada put the chicken on the plate. She steered Fancy to a table by the large casement windows to the right of the dais.
The table overlooked the new patio one story below, where the wedding would take place next Saturday. All the boxwoods were now planted around the large sandstone pavers. Oval beds of pink-blossoming azaleas decorated each corner of the patio. The arbor stood at one end of the patio, awaiting Philip’s last touches. Like everyone else, Jada now checked the weather forecast daily. So far, so good: the seven-day forecast called for temps in the seventies and sunny skies with little chance of rain.
At the table, Cat was deep in conversation with several of the women who’d graduated from Sweet Lake High the same year. The shower provided the perfect opportunity to catch up, especially with friends who’d moved away from Sweet Lake.
Cat slid out the chair beside hers and smiled as Fancy sat down. Then she eyed the child’s overstuffed plate. “Whoa. Fancy, you’re allowed to get seconds. The food isn’t going anywhere. The party is just getting started.”
Fancy plunked the plate down. “Yes, yes, yes. Jada told me.”
“Did she also mention how pretty you look?”
“I certainly did,” Jada said. The tulle ballerina dress in shimmering layers of shell pink was Philip’s most recent find at Gift of Garb. To finish off the outfit, he’d also sprung for three barrettes with rhinestones and rosebuds, which he’d affixed to his daughter’s light-blonde hair.
While the other women at the table murmured in agreement, Jada told Cat, “I’ll be back in thirty.”
“No problem. I’m happy to hang out with the munchkin.”
Fancy was polishing off her second drumstick as Jada tucked a napkin into the collar of her dress. “I’ll see you soon. Have fun with Cat and her friends.”
“Come back fast, okay?”
“Will do.” Jada did a double take and grabbed the napkin by Cat’s finished plate. She patted away the barbecue sauce rimming Fancy’s mouth. “I’ll hurry, promise.”
Slipping out, Jada went to the front desk to scan the reservation list. The Wayfair was enjoying a busy Saturday, with eighty percent of the main inn booked for the weekend. Half of the suites in the south wing were also booked—an unexpected bonus. Although the lake wasn’t yet warm enough for swimming, guests trooped past in casual attire and sandals, to take in the sun and enjoy boat rides on Sweet Lake.
Behind the front desk, Mr. Uchida said, “We had two last-minute bookings, one for a suite in the south wing, and the other for the main building.” His fingers flying across the keyboard, he peered at the computer screen. “The guests are scheduled to arrive any minute.”
“Has anyone called in sick?” Some of the employees were trading around a spring head cold.
“Relax. Everyone is here.”
“Color me happy. I was afraid I’d need to bail out the Housekeeping staff in the laundry room.”
Mr. Uchida chuckled. “You’re off the hook.”
Relieved, she strode to her office. The bridal shower was proceeding nicely. With Fancy happily pigging out, she suffered minimal guilt as she dug through the paperwork on her desk. Once Linnie departed for her honeymoon in Aruba, responsibility for managing the inn would fall on Jada’s shoulders. Keen to do a good job, she reviewed the to-do list she’d requested Linnie draw up.
She was reading the fourth point on the list when she noticed Philip in the doorway. He pulled away from the doorjamb. She had no idea how long he’d been standing there.
“Got a sec?” he asked. He seemed unsure if he should enter.
He looked more delectable than the treats his daughter was plowing through in the ballroom. As usual, he needed a haircut. She loved the way a lock of glossy, overlong hair fell across his wide brow. On weekends, he often skipped shaving—and he’d done so today. The shadow on his strong chin gave him a rakish look. Yearning wove through her as she composed her features.
“Come in.” The cool invitation belied the warmth cascading through her.
Philip left the door open. He gave a cursory glance at the chairs arranged before the desk, but remained standing.
“I talked to Daniel.” He caught her wavering gaze. “I didn’t go to him for advice as a way to patch things up with you. I’m not interested in scoring brownie points.”
“Good to know.” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“Don’t get me wrong. I do want to get back to where we were. There’s nothing I want more. I miss you, Jada.”
“I miss you too,” she admit
ted, and her heart moved into her throat.
“You do?” He released a soft, ragged expulsion of air. “I wasn’t sure how you felt, other than pissed off at me.”
“I’m not angry. Disappointed is more like it.”
“With me?”
“With everything. The way I dropped the news on your head, and the way you reacted. Philip, I didn’t want to begin dating and have a disagreement ruin everything. We were just starting out.”
“We’re still together. Nothing has changed. At least not for me it hasn’t.”
A question lay hidden beneath the remark. He wanted to know if their relationship was ongoing. If there was a way to forget their recent differences and continue on. She thought of Millicent, and the countless times she was tempted to pick up the phone this week. To ask Millicent how she was doing. To mention how much she’d enjoyed her stay at the Wayfair, and giving the baking lessons.
Out of respect for Philip’s wishes, she never made the call.
“What did you discuss with Daniel?” she asked.
“The pros and cons of telling Millicent.”
“About Fancy?” Her eyes widened. “You’re reconsidering?”
“Yeah, I am.”
She regarded him warily, not trusting her ears.
When she remained silent, he said, “There’s a lot to consider, including whether I should steal a page from Millicent’s playbook and hire a detective. I’m batting around the idea. It would sure be easier to decide what to do if I understood her relationship to my daughter.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “There’s a lot to consider. From what I understand, once Millicent learns about Fancy, I’ve opened the door to all comers.”
Anxiety darted through her. “Including Bodi’s parents.”
“Which scares me. Hell, I feel sick just considering it.”
The concern was understandable. “Bodi’s parents were abusive. We both saw the proof when she first came to Sweet Lake. All those bruises, and the gash on her forehead. Can’t you . . . I don’t know. Exclude them?”
“Not if Ohio law has anything to say about it. Grandparents have visitation rights, Jada. Once they learn about Fancy, they can drag me to court if I try to stop them from seeing her. According to Daniel, they have an even stronger case for visitation because their daughter—Bodi—is deceased. Her death kept them from knowing about their granddaughter.”
The explanation seemed unfair. “That doesn’t change the facts,” Jada replied, with heat. “If they were lousy parents, they shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Fancy. Can’t you ask a judge to keep them away?”
“There’s no way to back up an abuse claim. Daniel believes the court may agree to supervised visitation. We wouldn’t cite abuse as the reason. Fancy’s unfamiliarity with her mother’s side of the family might represent enough grounds.”
“Who supervises the visits?” This was unknown terrain, and she suddenly felt queasy.
“The court would assign a social worker to sit in whenever Fancy’s grandparents are with her. They won’t like the restriction. No grandparent would.” His features tensed. “At some point, the court will end supervision and give Fancy’s grandparents full access. Essentially, I’ll navigate on my own regarding how to handle the visits.”
“How do you feel about that?” she asked doubtfully.
Philip never received the opportunity to reply. Daisy from Housekeeping burst into the office.
“Jada, you’ve got to see him!” Noticing Philip, the young maid scudded to a halt. “Oops—I thought you were alone.” She gave a tentative wave. “Hi, Philip.”
He nodded in greeting as two other women from Housekeeping raced inside. Young like Daisy, they were giggling as they failed to catch their breath.
Jada gave them a warning look. Then she turned back to Daisy. “What is it?” She didn’t need a major calamity.
Daisy gestured toward the corridor, and the lobby beyond. “The actor, Liam Hemsworth? I swear, his brother is checking in.” She shivered with excitement. “Mr. Uchida just handed the guy his room key, south wing. You’ve got to see him!”
Jada bounced a thumb toward the corridor. “No fraternizing with the guests,” she ordered. Philip regarded her with devilish amusement. Tamping down the pleasure his attention darted into her belly, she focused on the maids. “I don’t care if the guy’s drop-dead gorgeous. Steer clear of him.”
Daisy thrust out her lower lip. “I’m sorry I told you.”
“I’m sorry I’m considering sending you home without pay. Don’t push your luck.” Jada began to order them out when a more worrisome thought intruded. Pecking on her keyboard, she located the employee file. “Is Benny working today?”
Catching on, Daisy said, “Not fair. Benny’s assigned to clean the common areas in the main building.” She regarded her crestfallen friends. “The south wing is our responsibility.”
“Not today it isn’t.” Jada read through the file with relief. Benny was scheduled all weekend. In a pinch, the bashful employee could handle the south wing. “Here’s the deal: Benny will service the room. Daisy, trot back to Mr. Uchida’s desk. I need the guest’s name.”
A man strode in from the corridor. “Don’t bother fetching the name,” he announced. He stepped past the maids and Philip. “I’m Vasily Pruszynski.”
His appearance threw the room into silence. Even Daisy and her friends were speechless.
Shock held Jada transfixed. Vasily—the doctoral student. Millicent’s resident houseboy, the young man living at her estate.
He’s flown in from Chicago to speak with me?
She doubted Millicent was aware of his bold actions.
Philip, his expression darkening, shooed the maids out.
Chapter 20
A dangerous male energy crackled through the office. The men regarded each other warily, like combatants drawn into a battle neither had foreseen. Vasily—younger than Philip by nearly a decade—was the first to regain his bearings. Sliding his attention away from the man gauging him with unmistakable disdain, he looked to the desk where Jada breathlessly waited.
“Would you mind if Mr. Kettering leaves for a moment?” Vasily said. “I need to speak with you privately.”
Surprise lifted Philip’s brows. “How do you know who I am?”
The harsh query made no dent in his opponent’s composure. “Philip Kettering, owner of Unity Design, a small-but-thriving landscaping business. If memory serves, you have a child. A daughter in primary school.” Vasily arched an elegant brow. “Should I continue?”
“Not unless you’d like to swallow your teeth.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“You catch on fast. What gives you the right to pry into my life?”
“And Jada’s,” Vasily supplied, foolishly goading him on. He was young, but he wasn’t lacking in confidence. “The prying was a necessity, given the circumstances. If you allow me a moment to talk with her alone, she’ll explain after I fill her in.”
“Like hell—”
Rising swiftly, Jada came around the desk. She planted herself between the men.
“Calm down, both of you. No one is drawing blood in my office.” After they stepped back, giving each other space, she closed the door to assure their privacy. Then she swung her attention to Vasily. “Philip isn’t going anywhere. This concerns him too.”
Now it was Vasily’s turn to register surprise. He rolled back on his heels, clearly impressed with the steel in her voice.
“The lady’s prerogative, of course.” He didn’t appear prepared to argue the point.
Without awaiting an invitation, he settled into one of the chairs arranged before the desk. Philip took the other chair and dragged it to the side of Jada’s desk.
She was about to question his actions when he wheeled her chair away from the computer, positioning it close to his. There was no mistaking his intention to protect her, and she expelled the anxious breath locked in her lungs. Once she seated herself, he took her hand.<
br />
With interest, Vasily watched the interplay. “I won the bet, you know.” He appeared to lower his defenses as his expression warmed. “Initially there was some debate regarding whether you were dating, or just friends. The report from the detective Millicent hired was short on details about your relationship. She wasn’t sure until she came here. I had my suspicions all along.”
Philip held his opponent with a level stare. “We’re dating.” His clasp on Jada’s fingers tightened.
“Then I suppose this does concern you.”
The observation met with a chilly silence, and the tension inside Jada increased. Vasily assumed Philip’s only interest was in protecting her. She knew Philip had no intention of revealing the other reason the events concerned him—his daughter.
Jada said, “I can’t imagine Millicent is happy about you coming here. Does she know?”
“Actually, she does.” Vasily gave her a cryptic smile.
“Why are you here?”
“To get you to see reason.” Leaning on the armrest, Vasily rested his chin on his knuckles. “Jada, I want to be fair. From everything Millicent has described, you’re a good person. It’s hard to know what she expected when she came to Sweet Lake. Not to become friends with the woman she was investigating, I’ll wager. You deserve an explanation. She did come here under false pretenses.”
Silently, Jada agreed. How much simpler it would’ve been if Millicent was truthful from the outset. “Why didn’t she explain the true reason for her visit to Sweet Lake immediately?”
“I’m sure she wanted to explain. Hard experience taught her not to reveal her true intentions—or her identity—when embarking on a fishing expedition. Not at the outset.”
“Why not?”
“The year before she hired me? A private detective gave her a lead on a cook named Jada working at a B&B near Indianapolis. Not a pastry chef. Millicent didn’t care. She felt the lead was worth checking out.”
Jada wondered how many trips Millicent took in search of Bodi. After the first fruitless journeys, most people would’ve given up. They wouldn’t spend the better part of a decade scouring the country for African American pastry chefs named Jada. Millicent’s endurance was admirable.
The Season of Silver Linings Page 23
